Art and poetry on page and stage

gift box


Jack Kimball


I come unannounced because I am socially awkward.
A line in a poem.

J parades toward emptiness in subrogation, embraces it to bring us back into space.
J is Kerouac.


The sun is glossy beige. Divided, confused, I
signed up for a summer of love. Those desserts are
sweet, their force takes me out of bounds,
interludes on the double.

I’m Matthew McConaughey, not perfect. It’s an every
day regimen with that living unlocked smell.
I set the controls; the active ingredients are
soon not now, don’t. First thing prithee

Noonish. I have a profane vocabulary,
a little nervous forced into the secondary
but I’m ecstatic I’m 29. I’ve been blocking
myself but now it’s over. I’m directional.

My head weighs 10 pounds.
Hold my earrings.